


lolix stuff

by ascii



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:31:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascii/pseuds/ascii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>loc and felix are the only rvb characters i care about so heres a bunch of rly short fics abt them, in no particular order</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. loc.doc

**Author's Note:**

> im apologizing in advance because most of these are really fucking old and terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhh idk obviously this takes place back when loc and felix were in the war together and i guess this is like. my headcanon on how they became mercs? idk but its so OLD

Locus didn't mean to do it- he kept mumbling that to himself like a child, hoping that if he said it enough times it'd be true. Between whispers he'd look at what he'd done: the blood on the floor, the guts and gore, the _fear_ in his commanding officer's dead eyes; then he'd look away, and whisper some more.  
Locus crumpled onto the floor, over his victim, over the human being drowning in his own fucking blood. Locus didn't want to believe it, that _he_ had done this, and tried to remember a time when he wouldn't have- but this was what he'd wanted, what he'd always wanted.  
"I won't." He whispered. "I won't become this, I won't..."  
"Oh Locus, you already have." Felix said. He stood there, fucking smiling, like this was a fucking _joke_ to him.  
"You- you don't feel anything, you-"  
"Hey. Easy there." Felix said. "You feel that pain in your gut, that fear of being unafraid?"  
Locus nodded.  
"Yeah. That's the last of your petty ' _feelings_ ' hanging on." Felix scoffed, as if humanity was something to be _ashamed_ of. "Happened to me when I was a kid. It'll be over soon. Just _let go_."  
Locus stared at his commanding officer and thought _this was a man, a man who was loved, a man who thought and felt. Now he's dirt, and I made him that way._ _  
__Now he's nothing, and so am I._  
Locus stiffened, stood up quietly like nothing had happened. He felt himself become something better, something he'd been resisting for too long; Locus stood, as a _soldier_ , not a man.  
"Help me dispose of the corpse." He said. His voice sounded different- emptier, almost.  
Felix spoke to him like they were equals for the first time. "In a minute- I've got a preposition for you first, if you're interested."  
"I'm listening."  
"We could take out our squad, tonight. While they're all sleeping."  
"And why would we do that?"  
"Because, Locus darling, _we're better than them_." Felix said. "Until now, I was... _Disappointed._ You had so much potential! You were so close, always right on the edge- but you wouldn't let yourself go to far, you wouldn't take what you really _wanted_." Felix smiled down at his commanding officer, and Locus thought _is this what I want, is this who I've been all along?_  
"You've always been better than them, Locus. I saw that- fuck, _he_ saw that." Felix gestured to the corpse again, and Locus looked, without fear this time. "That's why he made you a soldier- why _we_ made you a soldier. We helped you realize who you were, _what_ you were."  
Locus focused on the mission at hand, like a _soldier_ would. "Get to the point." He said.  
"Go rogue with me." Felix said. "We'll do better on our own than we ever would have with this piece of shit army."  
Locus stared at his commanding officer, at the dirt, and he didn't need to think about his answer, about any of it, because it was suddenly all so clear: he would _stop_ thinking, stop feeling, and the pit of fear in his brain screaming _this is a mistake_ \- it would all go away, it had to, __it had to.

 


	2. gay murder boys.doc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda dumb but lo and behold here it is

_access files: malcom_hargrove

_file: agent_felix

 

 

>I've seen worlds fall, at my own hands and the hands of others, yet my eyes do not see as his do. There is pain in them, rage- at what, I don't know, or particularly care. His fury fuels him, gives him passion that would frighten me, if I still could be. His anger's only downfall is the relish it brings, the long speeches and embellishments that are never necessary. They haven't been too drastic, not yet- but the future is what worries me, as it should worry all of us.

>This rage makes him a perfect partner for Locus, a man of anger fit for a man of nothing. His drive fuels his partner, while his partner's lack of...  _personality_ keeps Felix from going too far. I've never seen a man  _enjoy_ war as Felix does, and I don't hope to see many more.

>He is perfect. His reputation speaks highly of him, and his death toll speaks higher. I will need his dedication in the years to come, I will need a man who does not need anyone else.

 

_file end

_file: agent_locus

 

>I'm not sure what lies behind Locus's helmet, or whether there is anything at all. If someone had told me he was a machine, I would've believed it without question. He is more so than a man, despite whoever or  _whatever_ is inside his suit. It's more than I could have asked for: he does not feel, does not think, does not want. He is war, and he is good at it.

>I worry this will not last. Locus seems too good to be true, and I worry he will break. (Part of me hopes he does, just so I may pretend it is impossible for one to lose their humanity as he has.)

>Felix is his everything. He admires his partner, for his inability to feel, his inability to care; yet there is no personal bond between them, other than a mutual understanding and desire to kill. I have never seen Locus as anything other than professional, even at times when he thought I was not listening. If he has ever felt, he has buried it, where either he nor Felix will ever find it.

>He is perfect. He is nothing, or damn good at pretending to be. I have not bought a man, I have bought a gun, and I will fire it as such.

 

_file end

_file: partners

 

>They are going to kill this world, if they don't kill each other first. They are weapons, and dear god, they're mine.

>I've either made myself very, very powerful- or made a terrible mistake.

 

_file end

_files: malcom_hargrove end

>delete?

 

 


	3. felix is a dick - the movie.doc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk idk this one's just abt felix so if ur only here for gayness u can skip it

Felix sat alone at three a.m. ( _way past his bedtime_ , his mother would've said) in his Disney Channel pajamas, half-way through second grade, staring at a dead cat. _It fell._ He thought. _I have to tell mommy it fell._

Technically it _had_ \- down a flight of stairs, until it landed with its head screwed on wrong. _I was mad, mommy wouldn't let me stay up late and I was just mad-_

Death was no mystery to Felix. If something wasn't moving, then he certainly couldn't pretend it was _sleeping_. He wanted to, staring at what he'd done, he wanted to stop crying and go to sleep as if nothing had happened. Life had other plans for him.

Felix descended the staircase, careful not to fall ( _it fell, it fell_ ). He kept rationalizing things, kept looking for life in the lump on his staircase. _It was old,_ he thought, _maybe it died of old age, and I just happened to push it down the stairs at the same time._ He reached the bottom, and tip-toed around the cat like it would come back to bite him. To think that this cat, _his_ cat, that had been very much alive hardly an hour ago- was _dead_ , gone forever.

He rested a hand on it. He wanted to say _sorry_ , but the words wouldn't come. Felix was alone, next to something that looked alive, but wasn't, and he thought _everyone is going to die one day._

He sat there, watching the sun creak through his window. Hours had passed, they must have, because a clock on the wall said 5:00 am. _Two hours, it's been dead._ He thought. _Dead because of me._

Nothing seemed all that different, not really. The cat was dead, and the rest of the world didn't seem to care. Felix himself didn't feel all too bad either, since he'd pushed it ( _I'll tell them it fell, but I know what I did, I pushed it, I know I did_ ) with good reason. (He _pushed_ it, with his pudgy little fingers, so angry and afraid.)

He looked at the cat. It didn't scare him anymore, not really. He looked at its lifelessness, how silly it looked, slumped over itself- and he _laughed,_ without a care in the world.

Felix sat with the sun on his pajamas, beating down through the window, onto the cat's funny little face. He smiled, and ran upstairs. Felix went to bed, and he slept better than he had in years.

 


	4. locington idk.doc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im so fucking gay
    
    
    _My name is- no, I am Locus._ He thought. _I was on a mission with my partner, Felix. We were supposed to kill the Freelancers, quickly and quietly._
    	Locus stared down at Agent Washington, and tried not to shiver. _The mission did not go as planned. A hostage was taken. We did not manage to kill anyone, as far as we know._
    	Felix stared down at Agent Washington, and spat. _Our failure is unfortunate, but we were lucky enough to get a bargaining chip._
    _That's all he is,_ Locus thought. _A bargaining chip._
    	"So Freelancer, anything you want to tell us?" Felix said. "I mean, all your friends are going to die horribly anyways, but if you tell us where they are, I might make their deaths a little more quick."
    	Washington coughed. "Fuck. You." He said.
    Felix raised his fist, but Locus grabbed it. "He knows what he's doing." Locus said. "And he's got you right where he wants you."
    	"Just let me wipe that look off his smug little-"
    	"No. Give me a minute with him."
    	Felix shook his hand from Locus's grasp. "Fine." He said. "But don't let him get in your head." He left, and Locus felt a tightening in his chest: from an absence of Felix, or the presence of Washington, or both.
    	He turned to Washington. "This is personal for _him_ , not me." He said. "I don't care whether your friends die slowly or quickly- but if you get on our good side, I can promise your own death will be painless."
    	Washington laughed, though it was tired. "Not personal?" He said. "We're too far gone for that, Loc- from here on out, _everything_ is personal."
    	Locus shifted, and hoped that Washington hadn't noticed. (He had.) "Not necessarily. People might survive this, civilians of Chorus-"
    	Then Washington laughed harder, so hard he spat up blood. "You think _he_ will let them survive?" He gestured across the room, to where Felix had left from. "I've seen people like _him_ , I've worked alongside them- all they want is to burn the world down."
    _I am Locus. Felix is my partner. He is obsessive and arrogant, but he is good at what he does-_
    	"Besides... Those people who survive, they won't be the same, not ever.” Washington stared at the floor, and let drops of blood fall from his face.
    	Locus couldn't hear this, he wouldn't. "This is pointless-"
    	"Is it?" Washington said. "You see my point, don't you? You see what you are, what they made you."
    	 _I am Locus._
    	"It doesn't have to be this way."
    _I am Locus, I am-_
    	"You aren't what they made you."
    _I am-_
    	"You are a _person_."
    	_I am a soldier._
    	Locus left without another word. He told Felix to torture Washington, until there wasn't anything left- as if killing Wash could kill the idea of him, and everything he'd said, or make Locus forget he _was_ a person, or had been, long ago.

 


	5. delicious brunch.doc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this at 1am and my friend seemed to like it so i was like. fuck the police

Felix thought Locus's seafood risotto was _excellent._ Tangy, but not overtly so, and simmered to perfection. Their brunch was spread out like a buffet, over-zealous and just the way they liked it. Locus sat at the other end of the long table, staring back at Felix as though they were rivals. The silver and china laid out before them was fitting of kings, although that certainly wasn't who they'd stolen it from.

“Locus darling, would you mind passing the sugar?”

“It's to your left.”

“Oh come now, can't you help me out?”

Locus sighed. He stood up, walked to the other end of the table, and gave Felix his sugar.

“You act like a child.” He said. “Take your moronic sugar.”

Felix snickered, and gave Locus a kiss on the cheek. “Baby, you're all the sugar I need.” Locus frowned, but he was blushing too. “Foolish.” He said.

“But really, this is a lovely setup we've got here. What's in the omelet?”

“Eggs.”

“Exquisite. You're such a charmer.”

“No, that is your position in our relationship, as you are usually the one who—“

“Oh my god. _Sarcasm_ , Locus.”

They ate in semi-silence, and enjoyed warm food for the first time in months. Locus's cooking was better than expected (and it _was_ Locus's cooking, as there was no way Felix would ever do something himself if Locus was around to do it for him) and the food was only somewhat rotten. They ate like gentlemen, wiping their chins with napkins and holding their pinkies as if it actually mattered. They liked to play pretend, even if it was a gauche for their petty condescension.

“Delicious.” Locus said, as he ate over the bodies of dead men.

“Totally worth the trouble.” As Felix spoke he stared at the restaurant around him, all the people they'd killed to get it to themselves, and they fun they'd had doing it. They sat, chewed their breakfast-lunch and pretending to be normal, among the carnage of their lives, and the reality that followed them always.

 


	6. APD felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my friend whenbluescollide @ tumblr has a rly good APD felix headcanon so i wrote a fic abt it?? literally wrote this at like 2am and didnt edit it so. idk why its bein posted lol

"Antisocial Personality Disorder." Said Doctor Emily Grey. "He's a textbook case, really. He's got a high IQ too, he could've made a great doctor under different circumstances."

Felix heard her over the radio, and shivered. He'd heard that term before. A doctor's office somewhere. He remembered his mother crying. He remembered how uneasy everyone had been. He remembered that he didn't care what they thought, and tried to forget he'd remembered anything.

(That didn't mean he didn't care about what  _ he _ thought, and he thought about it a lot, all those pretty words and pills they'd shoved down his throat two years too late. He was a high-school dropout and a foster kid brought unto a rich white couple, who thought that raising him made them Good Samaritans. He was supposed to live in a prim and proper house that looked like everyone else's and go to church on Sundays. He was a runaway at fifteen, until he came back a few years later to fill his childhood with bullets.)

He tried to forget about it.

(He could remember when they said he couldn't feel anything. He could remember feeling a whole lot of ecstasy when they were crying for mercy.)

Felix forgot his childhood—no,  _ he didn't have a childhood _ , so there was nothing to forget, nothing to worry about.

(He was in Sunday school, ten years old, and he couldn't make friends, and that was his fault, for some reason. He didn't want friends though. He didn't need them. The world kept trying to change his mind.)

His childhood was probably badass anyways. Knowing him, it was spent guns-a-blazing, starting shit whenever he could and giving no fucks about it.

(Hurting people isn't as cool as it looks in the movies. Poisoning your math teacher is a lot harder that it looks.)

Badass. Perfect. That was him. He was  _ big _ , he was  _ powerful _ .

_ (Why don't you play with the other kids, Felix—I don't want to—Oh come on, I'm sure they'll like you—I don't care either way—don't you think that's rude—no, I fucking don't, I don't see why everyone has to make such a big fucking deal about everything, and frankly, it's pissing me off—) _

Felix switched off the radio. He could remember having a lot of attention when he was younger. Everyone had always been talking about him, paying him in attention rather than affection.

His childhood was cool. Just like the movies.

 


End file.
